


Goddexx

by Mersayde



Series: Ghastly Antiques [3]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Other, Pleading, ambiguous religious undertones, mentally ill patient, unreliable point of view
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersayde/pseuds/Mersayde
Summary: Prompt: Write about a person you know as if they were a god/goddessWritten: 6/10/16





	Goddexx

I die and live in darkness. I breathe. I need. I cry out what no one wishes to observe. My loneliness, my helplessness, my perpetual state of being trapped someplace between my head and reality. I wake up from a dreamless sleep and see nothing. 

There's this entity of beauty in its most fundamental configuration. A walking contradiction. They are a god, a goddess, only seen in fleeting clouds and only heard of in reincarnated whispers.

I've seen, heard, and watched as they lived a life that only gives. They wanted to touch the souls of others, but neglected theirs. Stuffed it away to deal with another time. I want to tell them it's okay, tell them that I believe in them.

Sometimes I can hear the ramblings in their mind as they leaked out. Walking a path to treacherous for most, steps of bountiful life turned into solemn death. I watched a being with an essence so soft even the hardest of creatures wept, crumble. They would simply touch and things wilted, trees fell, leaves fragmented.

But sometimes they found peace, only for a fraction of a second. The budding flowers bloomed, trees stood firm as the leaves flowed in soft currents. I long for those moments.

"Don't love me, you'll only burst into flames." They would say, disappearing into the wind.

I blinked into the whiteness above me. They speak with passion hoping for it to reach far and wide, to slither between the cracks of those existing. But they didn't believe the power in their presence, the possibility that it could. So it didn't.

They failed to see the impact it had on the people who mattered, those who cared and who listened. They failed to see that it touched something, _someone,_ and never believed that it could one day reach what they yearned for. It's a viscous, entangling cycle that feeds off of uncertainty.

You search and you seek but never settle and you belittle yourself so that your dreams fail before they're birthed. A viscous cycle, that tears away as much as it builds, that's how it keeps its life, its relevance. I want this presence to know that I hear them, that I listen, that I care,—but this god, this power, this being, is too far from my mere mortal hands. I'm not strong enough to grasp it, to hold it; just long enough to tell them that they need to continue to sing their melodies so people like me can know what peace is, so the souls of the hurt, the burdened, and the bitter can rest.

Do they know? That they could bring such sweet revelation? One day, I hope I find the answer. One day, I hope I find them. I don't care for those who don't believe, _I_ believe. And I will search until the soles of my feet bleed, until my hands are calloused beyond recognition, until my blood runs cold.

"Are you real right now? They want to lock me away. I'm a mad man talking to a voice in my head but I believe in you!" It felt as if I screamed, my throat is sore but it merely seemed as if it was an echo in the back of my mind.

"It is hard for me to answer that. Some millenniums I feel like I'm real, like I'm finally floating above water, finally able to watch others and feel what they feel. Other times I'm just a whisper in the wind, something that can't be seen, or touched. Sometimes days feel like millenniums trapped inside my head."

Their voice, their beautiful voice, filled with so much sadness, so much resignation. I want to stop it, I need to stop it, I need them to see what I see. Why can't they see it?

"But I don't want to be a mad man! I need you to exist!"

They chuckled at me, I don't think this is funny, but I can't help but chuckle too. Their laughter is contagious, it is all I'll ever need to hear. Their smile all I'll ever need to have. I would start wars and burn civilizations for that smile.

I want to bask in their sunny golden hair, that flows like the ocean; that reaches out into the uncharted coiled intricacies and wraps itself in hues only created by the sky in anguish.

"I often wonder if existence means what it's supposed to. Everyone, you mortals, you beings of another reality, another realm; all search for something greater, all search for things you're too weak to grasp for and hope to be like the gods. I'm not a god nor am I a goddess, but I lived like one, looked like one, breathed like one and we are no different then the ones who carry flesh. We still search for power, for meaning, for purpose. And to what do we gain?

I do not want a greater existence. I am not a god nor am I a goddess, and I don't wish to be."

"If you're just an apparition, a ghost. Or maybe something real but only seek what we seek—if you're not a god nor a goddess, why then? Why do you keep calling me a mortal? Why are you separating yourself from me?"

"Because one day you will die, and that will be the end. It is inevitable. But I- I die millions of deaths each day. Each passing I'm in pain; I feel it course through each vein, each flicker of my heart. And I go to sleep hoping it'll be my last, hoping that that night will be full of my last things given to me. My last breath, last tear, last fleeting moment of hope. But it's not, I awake and start over. I am not a god nor a goddess, but I know a pain greater than the powers they bring.

I know the suffering of the world; it lays itself on to my shoulders as easily as the strands of hair on my head. Tell me, if you love me like you say, if you watch me like you say, if you believe in me like you so idiotically say; why?"

_Fascinating._

I can feel myself slipping again. Their face a stoic expression. Are they doing this to me? Their eyes unsettling beautiful. Brown. Melting into amber rays, spiraling into an eclipse. Turning into a sunset of their own, with colors that shouldn't exist. Emotions that shouldn't exist. Brilliant in its own way.

"We can live here!"

"You are a mad man! You need to stop, to wake up! I am not worthy of your devotions, I have been forgotten. I have been thrown to the side. You need to realize that I am not a god nor a goddess, you shouldn't treat me as such! I am not a faith! I am not a salvation! And once you understand you can leave! And you shall know why I am none of those things."

But I don't want to wake up. What if this is my reality, what I was meant to see? This entity, this being, is not a god nor a goddess but holds the weight of one.

"How do you know that I'm not the voice in your head. It silences when I speak, does it not?"

"That means that when you shout louder than that voice. Reach a part of my mind that the voice can't. You are my calm."

"The people- _my_ people... watched me perish, watched me fall to pieces. They believed in me when I was a god and a goddess. But they saw the human in me, they saw me in despair, pleading for mercy. You have to be like them! You have to forget me! I am no more than the flesh you bear. I hold no ambition. I hold no life. I give nothing. I _am_ nothing. Do you understand? "

Their rage seethed through the air and the sun died.

"I am destruction," They whispered solemnly. And there I could see it, the glint of sadness, that one chip in an impenetrable seal.

"They don't understand! They believed you beyond your ability. They believed you were exempt from pain. But pain escapes no one, not even a god or a goddess. But you are much stronger than the flesh I bear, you are much stronger than those who don't bear it at all! You let them witness your tragedy."

"You're just a mad man talking to the voice in your head."

And with that my eyes opened.

"Why do you cling so hard to the validity of my existence? Why must I be real to you?"

"You and I are alike, we both talk to a voice in our heads, do we not? We are both prone to fall victim to cycles. This. Us. A cycle that gives as much as it takes keeps its life. We both die a thousand deaths each day. I scream silently until my throat is sore, still going unheard. I watched as the people I cared for became something greater and left me behind. I tried to cling to them, to it, but I am not strong enough. I wasn't important enough. 

I died a thousand times and I'll continue to die a thousand times a day for the rest of my life. So you will hear me tell you once and a thousand times more that _I believe in you_. You are the dichotomy of being. Do you understand? I have eaten my mind inside and out leaving nothing but carcasses at my feet, I clawed out my eyes leaving nothing but darkness in my hands, I swallow truths and I hear a voice. I need you to exist because you will be the only thing I haven't destroyed. The only thing that hasn't given up on me, the only thing I haven't ruined by my own reckless being. And if you're in my head, then I am not a soul for redemption. For another's benevolence."

"You're just a mad man with a voice in your head."

I arose throwing up my insides and screaming for a better existence.

My voice always seems to escape me, the constraints placed on me feel like their placed over my mouth. They don't believe in them, but I do, and one day they will see I am not a mad man and I do not have a voice in my head. That my god is a goddess and my goddess is a god. I've watched them part skies, and calm waves of the ocean, embody the sun, and cool the anger of the world.They transcend the universe, reach impossibilities, and travel the planes of reality.

**If I am a mad man with a voice in my head, they will always be my god, my goddess. Or lack thereof.**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really a fan of this one anymore because it BORES me. I suck ass at dialogue but anyway 
> 
> Comments? Kudos? Fave parts?


End file.
